


The Aftermath

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [75]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cock Rings, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Man, Panty Removal Recommended..., Sexual Tension, Ties & Cravats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M keeps her promise to James Bond to "finish this later".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolfsbride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/gifts), [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts), [jisforjudi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisforjudi/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [The Quickie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2259216) \- M promised Bond they'd "finish this later" - and they do.

Although M hadn't intended to stay too long at the reception tonight, she knows that she can't walk out too soon, either, not without causing all sorts of difficulties for herself at a later date, so as much as she's longing to take Bond home and fuck him silly, she circulates and makes small talk, and generally does what's expected of her. 

Bond, meanwhile, seems to have become invisible; every time she looks around for him, he seems to be standing behind something – a large flower display, a pillar, the buffet table. It's very irritating and despite the number of scowls she sends his way, he continues to hide behind things instead of standing behind her, which is the proper place for her bodyguard. 

Eventually she corners him and demands in a low voice to know just what he's playing at. He doesn't answer verbally, instead he grabs her wrist and guides her hand to his groin, and she discovers he's got a raging hard-on.

"James!" She glares at him.

"It's not my fault," he says in a barely audible tone. "You're walking about here with your pussy full of my come, how d'you expect me to react? You already knew I was having problems controlling my reaction to you, and then you do something like that."

She shakes her head. "You're worse than a teenager," she tells him, yet part of her is amused, and even turned on by what he's just told her. "Can't you do something about your erection?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "I could go and have a wank," he says, "but the minute I recalled what state you're in, I'd be hard all over again."

"All right, all right. I'll see what I can do about extricating myself from this shindig."

"And then?" he asks, his tone a mixture of hopeful and diffident.

"And then we'll go back to my flat, and I'll see whether I can help you out."

He groans softly, then licks his lips, and M suddenly knows that she wants him to go down on her before she lets him fuck her again.

007-007-007

Bond has to endure another twenty minutes of trying not to make it obvious to anyone that his cock's threatening to burst out of his trousers, and then he sees M moving towards the exit. He makes his way after her as rapidly as he can, and catches up with her in the hallway. She promptly passes him her wrap to carry, and he immediately adopts the same strategy as before for carrying it while they wait for her driver to bring the pool car around.

Of course, sitting next to M in the back of the car doesn't help very much, especially since her thigh is pressed against his, and she has her left hand clasping his leg. If the car bumps the right way, she'll be gripping his cock instead. He bites his lip at the thought, and hopes they'll reached M's flat soon or he's going to embarrass himself and come in his trousers. Half of him wants her to just unfasten his trousers, pull out his cock, and go down on him – but the other half of him knows very well that to do so would be courting disaster when there's a driver in the front of the car, and they're in the middle of London.

Eventually the car stops and they get out, Bond trying not to fall over his own feet he's so desperate to get M upstairs. They step into the lift and Bond presses her up against the back wall and begins kissing her, his hands coming up to grope her breasts. M pulls her mouth from his and gasps, "Mr Bond, this is very irregular."

"I'll show you irregular," he says, but then the lift doors open behind him. He promptly scoops M up into his arms, eliciting a cry of startlement from her. "Where's the bedroom?" he demands.

She directs him, and it's not until he's carrying her over the threshold that he abruptly remembers that she's a married woman. Not that he cares either way, but her husband might. He sets her down on her feet, then looks around.

"Reginald and I don't sleep together any more, James," she says softly. "He has health issues that make him a very restless sleeper. He's not here this week anyway."

Bond nods, making no further comment: she's a grown woman, after all, and it's her right to decide who she fucks. He moves in and begins kissing her again, reaching for the zip on the back of her dress, the one that could be said to have started tonight's chain of events.

"James," she protests, and wriggles away from him, ducking under his arms. "You might at least let me have a nightcap before you try to get your hands on me." She gives him a stern look. "You're not fifteen, after all."

He scowls, then folds his arms across his chest. "M – " he begins, but she shakes her head at him.

"Come and have a nightcap with me, James." He huffs, then yelps as she swats his arse in passing. "And stop pouting, James."

007-007-007

As eager as she is to fuck Bond again, M's determined not to let him dictate the pace, so she insists that they sit down together to have a nightcap, and she watches him over the top of her glass as he sits in the armchair opposite her.

"If you're worried you're going to come too soon, there's an easy solution to the problem," she observes.

He raises an eyebrow, and she smirks, then gets to her feet and moves to stand in front of him. She leans in to kiss him and he lifts a hand to hold the back of her head steady; he's so absorbed in kissing her that he doesn't notice when she removes his tie, but he does notice when she unfastens his trousers and eases his swollen shaft free.

"What – " he begins, then stops abruptly as she fastens his tie around the base of his cock. "Oh fuck!" 

"That ought to hold you, at least for now." 

"Christ, M, you're going to be the death of me."

"I sincerely hope not, Mr Bond." She kisses him again, then retreats to the sofa and picks her glass up again.

He sits there, looking slightly ridiculous with his cock sticking out of his trousers and the grey silk tie fastened securely at its base, but she's so aroused, she doesn't feel inclined to laugh.  
"I am going to do something for you," she tells him, "and afterwards, I want you to do something for me."

"I'll do anything," he says immediately, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"Perhaps you should wait to hear what it is, first?"

He shrugs. "Unless you're planning to harm me, I don't care."

"You really are reckless, James," she chides, and when he shrugs again, she shakes her head slightly. 

She gets to her feet and beckons him over, and he moves with alacrity. "Undress me, James," she says, and he smirks, then turns her around and unzips the dress. To her surprise he takes it slowly, carefully easing the dress off her body and setting it aside on the sofa. He turns her back to face him, then leans in and kisses her gently, his long fingers cupping her cheeks. She feels her nipples stiffen and tighten, and her breasts seem to grow heavier. He brings his hands from her face to her sides and draws her body against his, and she moans into his mouth as the wet tip of his cock leaves a sticky trail on her belly. She moans more loudly when his hands move down to cup her arse, and her sex grows wetter; she can feel her resolve to keep him to her pace crumbling, and she forces herself to step back. 

"This is not undressing me, Mr Bond," she says sternly.

He smirks. "Am I not allowed to appreciate the opportunity to kiss you properly? After all, we didn't get much kissing done earlier."

She scowls. "You've always got an answer, haven't you?"

He leans in and kisses her again, briefly. "I try."

"You are a very trying man," she agrees, and he pulls back to pout. Shaking her head, she points at the armchair he'd previously occupied. "Sit down, James."

He obeys, but she can see he's reluctant. Once he's seated she shimmies out of her knickers, then peels off her bra, and he watches her intently, his cock still bound by his tie.

She settles onto the sofa, spreading her legs wide, and he whimpers slightly, then looks embarrassed. She sucks her middle finger into her mouth, and hears him whisper "Fuck!", then she lowers her hand and slides it into her pussy, which is still slick from their earlier fuck.

"Oh god!" 

He starts up from the sofa, and M withdraws her finger immediately and demands, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I just want to watch," he says, and moves to kneel on the floor in front of her where he's got a close-up view of proceedings.

"Very well. But no touching," she tells him.

He gives a choppy nod, and she slides her finger back inside herself, and begins to stroke her pussy. Although she wants to watch James watching her – his avid expression is highly flattering – she finds her eyelids fluttering closed as she works her finger deeper and deeper inside her pussy. Without conscious thought, her left hand rises to cup her breast, the thumb brushing repeatedly over her stiff nipple. Soon she all but forgets Bond's presence as she focuses more and more on bringing herself to a climax. She switches from fingering her pussy to rubbing her clit, then pinching the little bundle of flesh and twisting it as she drives herself ever closer to orgasm.

She comes with a soft cry and slumps limply against the back of the sofa, her breathing ragged and her heart thudding. 

It's only when two warm hands settle on her knees that she remembers her audience and opens her eyes. James is staring up at her, an intent look on his face. "I want to taste you," he mutters, and she nods, then moans as he drags his tongue up the length of her sex.

007-007-007

Bond can hardly believe what he's just witnessed: never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to watch his boss wanking for him; his cock is achingly hard and he's desperate to fuck her again, but the opportunity to eat her out is not to be wasted. He has no idea if tonight is the start of something new between him and M, or just a one-off, but if it's the latter, he doesn't want to miss out on anything she might let him do.

After he's brought her to another climax, she gives him a wicked smile, then nods at his tie-wrapped cock. "Bed," she says, and he sighs in relief. He gets to his feet, then helps her up, and when she stumbles slightly, he bends and scoops her up into his arms.

"Do you think you can fuck me without coming in thirty seconds flat?" she asks as he carries her back to her bedroom.

"No, probably not," he admits.

"Perhaps you should leave the tie where it is then, at least initially."

He nods, then lowers her onto the bed. His hands go to his shirt buttons, but she stops him.

"Let me do that." He waits as she kneels up on the bed and unbuttons his shirt, then pushes off his jacket, and the shirt. She drops his trousers and he steps out of them, pushing them aside with his foot, then he removes his socks as well.

M shifts across to the middle of the bed, and Bond moves over to join her, lowering his body over hers with a sense of relief. She clasps his hips for a moment, then takes hold of his cock and guides it to her pussy; a shudder runs through him at the contact, then he moans softly as he slides inside her.

"M," he moans.

She nips at his lower lip. "In the circumstances, James, it would be acceptable for you to use my name."

He gives her a crooked grin. "Olivia," he acknowledges.

"James." She smiles. "Now fuck me, James."

It's an order he's happy to obey, and he immediately withdraws, then begins to thrust. Even with his tie around his cock, he probably won't last long this time, but he hopes that he'll be able to fuck her again before the night is out. As he picks up his pace, he offers silent thanks to the gods of jammed zips for giving him a night to remember.


End file.
